


The Incident With The Laptop

by Enjoloras



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Funny, M/M, Sex Tape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjoloras/pseuds/Enjoloras
Summary: He hadn't done it on purpose, of course – he was prone to self-destructive tendencies now and then, sure, but to intentionally sabotage his relationship with Enjolras? No. He'd never do that. He didn't hate himself that much.None of this mattered though; he was pretty damn sure that as soon as Enjolras learned what had happened that would be it for their relationship. Intentional or not, malicious or accidental, it didn't make the outcome any different. It was a disaster, and Enjolras was going to hate him forever.-Grantaire gives Joly his old laptop - only to remember afterwards that there's something on it that he and Enjolras definitely don't want Joly to see...





	1. Chapter 1

Grantaire was well known - notorious, even - for fucking up. That much was beyond dispute.

It wasn't his fault, he told himself - he just seemed to have been born with an astonishing penchant for failure. And he was multitalented at it, too; whether it was failing abysmally in his classes or falling hopelessly in love with someone worlds out of his league, Grantaire had it down to an art.

Well, mostly, anyway – that second thing had actually worked out pretty well in the end.

Enjolras was _still_ worlds out of his league, of course, but apparently he'd received a heavy blow to the head or lost a bet that had encouraged him to settle for Grantaire, because they'd been dating now for just over six months. Six blissful, glorious, heavenly months without incident – 'incident' in this context meaning the arguments they were famed for.

It had felt like a dream to begin with, but now all that suspiciously good fortune was undoubtedly about to run out - because Grantaire had done something monumentally stupid, and it was probably going to cost him his boyfriend.

He hadn't done it on purpose, of course – he was prone to self-destructive tendencies now and then, sure, but to intentionally sabotage his relationship with Enjolras? No. He'd never do that. He didn't hate himself that much.

None of this mattered though; he was pretty damn sure that as soon as Enjolras learned what had happened that would be it for their relationship. Intentional or not, malicious or accidental, it didn't make the outcome any different. It was a disaster, and Enjolras was going to hate him forever.

Just as he was agonizing over this fact he heard the bell above the cafe door jingle, and glanced up to see that the very man in question had just strode in, scarf wound around his neck up to his nose and his long blonde curls battered from the wind.

“Hey,” he said as he hurried over to Grantaire's table, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, “Sorry I'm late. The metro, you know.”

“Yeah.”

Enjolras removed his scarf, eyes lighting up when he saw the latte waiting for him on the table, “Oh,” he said, “Did you order for me...?”

“Figured it would save time,” Grantaire shrugged; _and I feel guilty as all hell._

“It's a cold day, the line is long...”

Enjolras beamed, “Well thank you,” he said, sitting down and immediately wrapping his hands around the mug to warm them, “My fingers feel like they're about to fall off.”

“I hope not,” Grantaire remarked, “How would you write your speeches without fingers?”

“I'd just dictate them to Combeferre,” Enjolras joked, taking a tentative sip of his coffee as though to test the temperature, “Are you okay?” he added, “You look upset.”

“A...little,” Grantaire admitted, feeling his nerve starting to leave him, “Enjolras, we...we need to talk.”

Enjolras' expression darkened instantly, “Oh...?” he said, setting his mug down, “Okay. What's wrong?”

“I did something bad, Enjolras,” Grantaire said, “I'm sorry, I...I swear I didn't _mean_ to, I just didn't _think_...”

Enjolras eyed him worriedly, “What? What happened?”

“I...gave my old laptop to Joly,” Grantaire said, grimacing, “I'm sorry. He needed a new one urgently for uni and it was just _there_ and I wasn't using it so---”

“Wait, slow down,” Enjolras said, bringing one hand to his temple as though he had a terrible headache “I'm confused.”

“About what?”

“Why is you giving Joly your old laptop a bad thing?”

“You don't remember what's on it?”

Enjolras raised one eyebrow, “No. Should I?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of,” Grantaire said, an almost hysterical laugh bursting out of him, “Fuck, Enjolras. You know, uh, a few months ago? When you were going to go visit your parents for a week, and you were saying how much you were uh, going to miss me...?” he got a little hot under the collar just thinking about it.

“Obviously. It was a nightmare week, I wanted to die.”

“Well, you know, before you went away...that thing we did...?”

“I don't---oh. _Oh_.” As the realisation of what he meant sank in Grantaire saw what he was certain was Enjolras' soul leaving his body. He stiffened in his seat, eyes growing wide with understanding – and then with dread.

“Oh my god,” he said at last, “ _Oh my god._ That was on it?!”

“Yes!” Grantaire said, putting his head in his hands, “I totally forgot! I'm so sorry! And it's like the only video on there, too! I don't use that laptop for much, I thought it'd be safe on there...”

“Well it _was_ safe on there!” Enjolras cried, throwing up his hands, “Until you gave it to Joly! Oh my _god_ , I can never show my face in public again!”

“He might not have seen it!” Grantaire reasoned desperately, reaching to grab Enjolras' hands before he drew the attention of everyone in the Musain, “He's not the kind to go snooping!”

“But if it's just sitting there on his laptop, the only video, you don't think he might click on it out of curiosity?” Enjolras said, “Oh my god. This is a _nightmare_...”

“You're right. I'm so sorry,” Grantaire whispered, looking down at the table, “Really. I fucked up big time. I get it if you want to break up...”

“Why would I break up with you?” Enjolras said, now sounding even more confused.

“Uh, because I gave my friend a laptop with our sex tape on it?” Grantaire reminded him.

“You didn't do it on _purpose_ ,” Enjolras argued, “I'm not going to leave you for _that_. It was an accident. But we do have to try and get it back, or I might actually die from embarrassment.”

“How?” Grantaire asked, too busy being relieved that Enjolras wasn't breaking up with him to come up with any kind of useful idea.

“I can't just go 'oh hey Joly I know you desperately need this laptop for that very important assignment but I'm just going to take it back'...”

“Just tell him you need to borrow it for an hour to take some files off it,” Enjolras said, “It's not a lie.”

“Yeah but Joly is that guy who'll offer to do it for me,” Grantaire told him, “And then he'll see it on there for sure.”

Enjolras groaned, sinking forward to rest his forehead against the table; a couple of people sat nearby glanced over, alarmed.

“It's okay!” Grantaire soothed, patting him awkwardly on the back, “We'll figure something out! Maybe we can steal it off him...”

“You want to steal your own laptop back?” Enjolras said, turning his head to look at him, “From one of your best friends?”

“Only temporarily,” Grantaire said, “Or we could sneak onto it and delete it – I'd just need you to create a diversion so I can get hold of it...”

“This is a nightmare,” Enjolras said again, “But fine. I'll try. Will he have it at the meeting tonight?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Alright. Then we need a plan.”

 

-

 

The plan was pretty simple, really. They'd wait until Joly arrived at the meeting and then Enjolras would distract everyone's attention long enough for Grantaire to swoop in, find the video, and delete it permanently from existence before it accidentally got projected onto the wall of the biology building instead of one of Joly's presentations.

Which, given that Bossuet had access to the laptop and a habit of messing up technology, was a very real possibility.

The meeting started as normal, everyone trickling into the upstairs room of the Musain as they arrived from their classes and jobs. Feuilly was in a rush as usual – 'I can only stay for half an hour, I have to cover a shift for someone!' - Courfeyrac was ten minutes late with coffee, and Eponine got there and immediately headed back outside for a cigarette, yelling something at her brother on the phone as she went.

When Joly and Bossuet finally turned up Grantaire was ready to spring into action; he studied them both closely as they made their way over to him, examining their features like he was trying to read them in a game of poker. Joly didn't look absolutely mortified, so it was a pretty educated guess that he hadn't yet discovered the incriminating video. That was a relief.

“You okay, R?” Bossuet asked, raising one eyebrow, “You're squinting.”

“Oh, uh, yeah – sorry,” Grantaire said, laughing it off, “I was, uh...” he searched his mind frantically for a believable excuse, “Checking out Enjolras' ass?”

Joly snorted, “Wow, subtle,” he said, propping his cane against the table, “I know you guys are finally dating and all but tone it down.”

“Yeah, keep the meetings PG,” Bossuet joked, patting him on the back, “You can stare at his ass as much as you like behind closed doors.”

“Heh, yeah, sorry – can't help it. Force of habit, you know?" Grantaire said, following Joly's bag with his eyes, “Do you, uh, have that laptop with you, Joly...?”

“Yeah,” Joly smiled, patting the bag, “Right here. Why?”

“Just wondering if it's up to scratch for what you need,” Grantaire lied, sitting down and pouring Joly a glass of wine, “Here, I already got the drinks in...”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Monsieur?” Joly teased, removing his satchel and setting it down next to his chair.

“Obviously,” Grantaire smirked; well, it wasn't a lie. A drunk Joly would _definitely_ make the whole sneaking-onto-a-laptop-to-delete-a-sex-tape thing a lot easier.

"Well, the laptop works fine," Joly said, "Thanks again, by the way - I thought I was doomed when mine bit the dust."

Grantaire smiled nervously, "No problem."

"I hope you deleted all your porn from your browser," Joly joked. Grantaire let out a strangled laugh.

"Funny!" he said, "You're hilarious, Joly..."

Joly gave him an odd look, "Uh...thanks," he said, "Anyway, thanks for the wine."

"No problem."

Grantaire waited until everyone had arrived and they were ready to begin to give Enjolras the signal – a surreptitious nod in his direction. Enjolras shot him a meaningful look and then, taking three steps towards the front of the room, suddenly dropped, making a half-hearted attempt to catch himself on the nearest table as he went. It couldn't have looked more obviously like a stage fall in Grantaire's opinion, but no one else seemed to think so, everyone whirling around in surprise as Enjolras hit the floor.

“Ouch!” He cried, scrunching up his face as though in pain, “My leg!”

Grantaire watched as Joly and the rest of the group hurried over to help and then ducked down underneath the table to rifle through Joly's bag.

 

-

 

Enjolras thought he was putting on a pretty convincing performance. Sure, he wasn't exactly renowned for his acting abilities, but right now he seemed to be nailing it, because everyone in the room - with the exception of Grantaire - had rushed to his aid. He gripped his ankle, letting out an exaggerated groan as Combeferre knelt down beside him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can't move,” Enjolras said weakly, “I think it's broken!”

“Broken?” Combeferre echoed. Courfeyrac gasped, covering his mouth with one hand.

“I don't think I can stand,” Enjolras said, “It hurts _so_ much...” he moaned, stretching to look around Combeferre. Grantaire was huddled under the table, typing furiously at Joly's laptop like a hacker in a 90's spy movie.

“Try to move your foot for me,” Combeferre instructed, brows knit together with concern as he lay one hand gently on Enjolras' ankle.

“I don't know if I can” Enjolras said, throwing his head back dramatically, “I don't think so. Really, I'm in _so_ much pain...”

“Then you need to go to the emergency room,” Joly said matter-of-factly, eyes wide.

“But I can't even stand!” Enjolras protested, hoping to drag it out as long as possible. He didn't want to _actually_ end up going to hospital – it would be a disaster. He could only imagine the look on everyone's faces when he got there and the x-rays came back to reveal a perfectly healthy ankle.

“I don't think I can walk.” he said.

“Then I'll carry you!” Bahorel cried triumphantly as he pushed his way to the front of the group, not even waiting for a response before he was whisking him up into his arms bridal style, “Don't worry everyone, I've got this!”

“No, I---wait----” Enjolras spluttered, “Really, Bahorel----”

“Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you, chief! We'll get you to the hospital pronto.”

“Yeah, I'll drive!” Marius offered, holding up his keys.

“You have a Vespa, Marius!” Feuilly objected, “How are we going to strap him onto the back of that?”

“Bungee cords?” Jehan shrugged.

“Okay, enough of this,” Combeferre sighed, “We'll just call a taxi. Courfeyrac, can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure.”

Enjolras squirmed awkwardly in Bahorel's arms, craning his neck up so he could see what Grantaire was doing; just as he got a look over Bahorel's shoulder he saw Grantaire crawl out from under the table, motioning towards him with his arms like he was trying to flag down an aircraft.

That was the signal.

Instantly, Enjolras dropped down onto his feet like a ballet dancer. 

“You know what, actually, I'm feeling much better,” he declared, to everyone's total surprise. Bahorel particularly looked like he thought Enjolras had just performed a miracle.

“Really. I think it might just be a sprain, you know,” he said, stretching out his leg, “I'll walk it off.”

“Uh...okay.” Joly said, eyebrows raised, “If you're sure...”

“I am sure,” Enjolras smiled, dusting himself off, “But thanks, everyone. Okay, let's get the meeting started!”

 

-

 

“What do you mean he changed the password?!” Enjolras said, horrified.

“What do you _think_ I mean?” Grantaire said, “He's changed the password, duh!”

As soon as the meeting had finished Enjolras had pulled Grantaire aside, and Grantaire – lucky Grantaire – had had the unfortunate duty of informing him that their efforts had been thwarted.

“It's his laptop now, Enjolras,” Grantaire reminded him, “I gave it to him. Changing the password is a pretty normal thing to do.”

Enjolras let out an audible groan, pulling at his hair, “Now what, then?! It's still on there! We need to find a way to delete it. We're one double click away from total humiliation.”

“I know, okay?” Grantaire sighed, “Look, we'll just have to try again. I can probably work out Joly's password if I have a bit more time. I'll just log on and delete it at the next meeting...”

“And if he finds the video before then?” Enjolras pressed, “Then what?”

“I don't know!”

“You live with him,” Enjolras said, “Can't you break into his room and do it?”

“I'll try, okay? But I can't promise anything,” Grantaire sighed, “Our best bet is at the meetings – he gets distracted. It's the best chance we have.”

Enjolras turned away from him, pacing back and forth restlessly, “This is terrible,” he said, “If Joly watches that video I'll have to change my name and leave the country!”

“Oh come on, it's not that bad,” Grantaire said feebly, aware that yes, actually, it was definitely that bad, “I mean, it's pretty vanilla. It's not like you're chained up wearing leather or anything...”

“So?! I still don't necessarily want one of our friends to see us fucking!” Enjolras snapped; he really must have been desperate, Grantaire thought, because usually he didn't use words like that.

“It's 'pretty vanilla', sure, but it's still...” Enjolras broke off with a frustrated growl, starting to pace again.

Grantaire's cheeks turned bright red as he thought about it. The video _was_ pretty raunchy, he had to admit – lots of hair pulling and passion and _noise_. Enjolras wasn't exactly quiet in bed.

It definitely wasn't the sort of thing you wanted your friends to see, at any rate. It had seemed like a great idea in the heat of the moment, especially with Enjolras going back to Limoges to be held hostage at his parents' house for a whole week.

'I'll take it with me and watch it whenever I'm missing you,' Enjolras had said silkily into his ear, and fuck, his words had stirred up such hot mental images in Grantaire's mind that he had completely thrown all rational thought out of the window. Hell, Grantaire had probably watched it a dozen times himself in the space of that week; it had definitely taken the edge off Enjolras' absence. But now, well...the decision to make the video was evidently coming back to bite them. He should have known something like this would happen. He'd been thinking with his dick, and look where it had got him.

“We'll figure something out,” Grantaire vowed, “At the next meeting, I promise.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Their next opportunity didn't come at the meeting after all – it came two days later at the weekly movie night when Bossuet oh-so-helpfully volunteered their apartment to host it.

It was perfect, Grantaire thought – a stroke of sheer genius he'd been an absolute idiot not to think of himself. Movie night always involved a formidable amount of pizza and too much alcohol; what better distraction than that? Nobody paid attention to anything when they were in a mozzarella-induced food coma and full of cheap beer.

This time they were going to get it right – Grantaire could feel it in his gut.

He'd spent the last two days compiling an exhaustive list of anything and everything he thought Joly might use as a password – combinations of Musichetta and Bossuet's names, their birthdays, weird science-y terms he might think were fun – he'd been thorough to a fault.

At least _one_ of them had to be right; Grantaire knew Joly too well to be wrong. Were you even best friends with someone if you couldn't accurately guess their sensitive personal information?

Now all he and Enjolras needed was an opening and enough time to try them all.

 

-

 

“Who ordered the pepperoni?” Combeferre called, balancing a stack of pizza boxes up to his chin.

“That'll be me!” Bahorel said, swooping past and taking it from him.

“Is there one with pineapple in there?” Marius asked; Eponine physically shuddered.

“Fucking savage,” she muttered.

“I'm sure there is Marius, but I'm not in the position to look right now,” Combeferre said diplomatically, gesturing to the tower of boxes in his arms, “I don't have x-ray vision.”

“What's even the point of wearing glasses that thick if you don't get x-ray vision?” Courfeyrac teased, taking half of the pizzas from him to lighten his load, “Alright, people, come get your own – I'm not your waiter. You wanna eat you gotta move.”

Bossuet groaned, “But if I get up Joly will take the comfy seat!”

“I should have the comfy seat anyway, I'm disabled,” Joly joked, trying to squeeze onto the armchair with him, “Move your ass!”

Grantaire snorted, shaking his head, “Well I'm not going anywhere,” he said, “I was born on this sofa and I'll die on this sofa.”

“R we got that sofa from a charity shop last year,” Musichetta laughed.

“I meant in the metaphorical sense,” Grantaire retorted, perking up when he saw Enjolras arrive; his hair was windswept and he had a grocery bag hanging heavily at his ankles. Good, he thought; he'd got what they needed for Plan B.

Frankly 'Plan B' sounded terribly boring in Grantaire's opinion – he'd wanted to call it something catchy like 'Operation Steal Back Our Smut' but Enjolras had shot the idea down in flames with a simple look.

So, Plan B it was.

'That's an emergency contraceptive, isn't it?' he'd said – Enjolras had given him another Look for that one.

“Enj, you're here!” Courfeyrac cried happily, “What took so long? Had to stop to rescue a kitten from a tree?”

“Help an old lady across the road?” Bahorel added.

“Sign a petition to save the whales?” Eponine said. 

Enjolras ignored them, setting down his bag with a loud thud; something inside clanked loudly as it hit the floor.

“I was getting the drinks.” he answered simply; the whole room fell into an immediate hush.

“You...were getting the drinks?” Courfeyrac echoed, raising one eyebrow, “You? Are you sick?”

“I'm fine.” Enjolras frowned, “What, I can't buy alcohol? I'm in my twenties. I know I _look_ young, but---”

“That's not what I meant! I'm just...surprised. You don't normally drink.”

“Yeah,” Combeferre said, setting the last few pizza boxes down on the coffee table, “It's just a little odd...”

Enjolras shrugged, brushing past him to pick up a pizza box and check it's contents, “Did you order for me?”

“You and Grantaire are sharing,” Feuilly said, pushing a box towards him, “It's this one.”

“Thanks, what is---- _olives_?” Enjolras scowled, glancing over at Grantaire, “You _hate_ them on pizza!”

“Yeah but you like them so you can just eat them off my slices for me,” Grantaire grinned, “See what a thoughtful boyfriend I am?”

Enjolras smirked, rolling his eyes, “The most thoughtful,” he agreed, as to Grantaire's absolute delight he made a bee-line towards him to sit in his lap.

“There's nowhere else to sit,” Enjolras reasoned, taking a large bite of pizza and managing to get mozzarella all over his chin.

“Sure,” Grantaire smirked.

 

-

 

They waited until everyone was a whole 'Lord Of The Rings' movie into movie night before they made their move; the pizza had been annihilated, empty boxes scattered around the room like casualties of war. Enjolras was still nestled in Grantaire's lap, the two of them having practically melded into one on the sofa. Marius, sat to the left of them, looked utterly horrified by this development.

“We should go now,” Grantaire muttered, brushing a curl of Enjolras' hair away from his ear, “Whilst everyone is distracted...”

Enjolras nodded, shuffling awkwardly off Grantaire's lap so he could stand and nearly falling into Marius in the attempt.

“You okay, R?” Eponine asked, watching as he tried to sneak behind the sofa and out of the room.

“I'm fine. Geez, Ep, can't a guy take a piss in his own house without getting an interrogation?”

Eponine wrinkled her nose, “Too much information, thanks.”

“You asked.”

“Just go.”

Grantaire gave her a playful salute, disappearing down the hallway; he was almost glad she'd asked him, really. It meant no one would question his absence.

Maybe this would be easier than he'd thought; maybe they wouldn't have to resort to the back-up plan sitting in the grocery bag Enjolras had brought with him.

He found his way to Joly's room quickly, slipping inside as quiet as a cat and heading straight for the laptop, sitting innocuously on the desk by the window. It was tempting to ditch the effort of hacking it altogether and just hurl the wretched thing out of the window, but there were numerous issues with that plan; 1), laptops did not just get up and throw themselves out of windows, no matter how suicidal they might be in the wake of having someone's sex tape played repeatedly on their screen, 2), It was old and thus as heavy as a ton of bricks, and if it landed on the head of some innocent bystander walking on the street below Grantaire would be looking at manslaughter charges, and 3) – most importantly - Joly needed it for university. Desperately.

Still, if the situation got _desperate_...

Grantaire sighed, sitting down and opening it up.

“Okay,” he said to himself, pulling the long list of potential passwords from his pocket, “I can totally do this.”

 

-

 

Enjolras drummed his fingers nervously against the arm of the sofa. It had been ten minutes and he was starting to feel physically sick. Grantaire had been a lot longer than he'd thought he'd be. Someone was bound to notice something was wrong eventually.

“Hey, Boss, you got any more beer?” Bahorel piped up, snapping Enjolras out of his thoughts.

“Sorry,” Bossuet said, holding up his hands, “We're out. It's been a rough week.”

“We're not even at the Battle Of The Hornburg and you expect me to be sober?” Jehan said, outraged, “What kind of nonsense?”

“Yeah!” Eponine said, frowning, “Like, I get it, they're good movies, but there aren't nearly enough chicks in this for me to enjoy it without a _lot_ of alcohol.”

“I can go to the store?” Joly offered, “I'll just need to get my ID. I've been going to the same store for like three years and they still look at me like they think I'm twelve.”

“It's all that childlike wonder you exude,” Musichetta joked.

“Probably. My wallets in my room, I'll be right ba----”

“NO!”

Enjolras leapt to his feet without even thinking, too alarmed to show any kind of composure; every single face turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Enj? Are you okay?” Courfeyrac asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I---yes,” Enjolras said breathlessly, “Of course, hah,” he smiled nervously, crossing the room swiftly to the grocery bag.

“I brought drinks, remember?” he said, brandishing the bottle triumphantly.

“Straight vodka?” Feuilly said, stunned, “Uh...wow.”

“Damn, Enj! When you go you go _hard_ ,” Bahorel laughed, getting to his feet to take the bottle from him, “I like this new you! He's unpredictable!”

“He certainly is,” Combeferre said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “How is your ankle, by the way?”

“Oh,” Enjolras flushed, “It's good. I put ice on it and, you know, all better now...”

“Uh-huh...”

“Why this sudden wild side, chief?” Bossuet asked, waggling his eyebrows, “R starting to rub off on you?”

“R rubs off on him _plenty_ I'd bet,” Eponine snickered. Enjolras blushed.

“Lets play a drinking game!” he suggested, determined to change the subject.

“Seriously?” Eponine recoiled in surprise, “You're suggesting this? _You_? Like, for real? Are you high?”

“I don't think so,” Enjolras said weakly.

“Well  _I'm_ game for that!” Bahorel decided merrily.

“I'll bite, I guess – but it better be good if you're making me pause Tolkien for it.” Jehan said firmly, “I just wanted to stare at Vigo Mortensen in peace.”

“Funny, I always had you down as more of a Legolas kind of person,” Joly mused.

“Nah, give me a dirty man with a sword _any_ day.”

“I relate to Saruman _big time_.” Cosette said.

“Why?”

“Are you kidding me? Cool hair, serving Looks, talks about how there'll 'be no dawn for men'? The guy is _goals_.”

Eponine lifted up her glass, “I'll drink to that!”

 

-

 

They ended up playing 'Kink Shame', easily the worst game ever invented in the long, monstrous history of mankind. It had been Courfeyrac's suggestion, of course.

'The rules are simple,' he'd said brightly, 'We go around the circle and we name a kink – if you have the kink, you take a drink!'

So now here they were, sitting on the floor like freshers, and Enjolras was starting to wonder if there was even a point deleting the sex tape considering all the uncomfortable things his friends had just learned about him. None of it mattered though, because fortunately he was pretty sure he was going to die of alcohol poisoning, and – well, okay that sounded bad. He wasn't drinking a _lot_ – not any more than the rest of them, anyway – but it was vodka and Enjolras had gone down in friend group history as the biggest lightweight since Marius.

Marius, the lucky asshole, who was apparently the most innocent individual to ever grace god's green earth and completely sober for it.

“Okay – hair pulling!” Musichetta said.

Enjolras let out a miserable whimper, knocking back his shot. The room was starting to spin.

“I'm sure Grantaire would agree with that one,” Eponine smirked.

“Wait – where _is_ R?” Bossuet asked suddenly, causing Enjolras to freeze, “He went to the bathroom like, ages ago!”

“Yeah,” Joly scowled, “Do you, uh, think he's okay...?”

“Maybe the pizza didn't agree with him.” Bahorel said, still stuffing himself on a few leftover slices.

“Should one of us go check on him?” Courfeyrac asked.

“I'll go!” Enjolras offered instantly, springing to his feet, “Don't worry, everyone – v'got this.”

“Are you slurring?” Combeferre said.

“Your _face_ is slurring.” Enjolras retorted. It had sounded a lot smarter in his head.

“I'll, uh, go find R...” he said, turning and heading off down the hallway, supporting himself against the wall.

“Please don't fuck in our bathroom!” He heard Joly call after him.

 

-

 

When Enjolras stumbled noisily into Joly's bedroom Grantaire nearly jumped out of his skin. He whirled around to face him, heart pounding.

“Enjolras,” he said, “Thank fuck, I thought---”

“I was Joly?” Enjolras shook his head, “No. They're busy playing shamekink,”

Grantaire scowled, baffled, “What?”

“Some drinking game,” Enjolras hiccuped, “I told everyone you went down on me in the Musain that time, so, yeah, sorry about that.”

Grantaire blinked, “Are you _drunk_?”

“Feels like it. Wasn't that the plan? Get our friends drunk to buy us time?”

“Well, yeah, but weren't you meant to water yours down or something?” Grantaire reminded him, slightly amused as he watched him swaying where he stood, "You're not exactly a good drinker."

“Oh, yeah,” Enjolras furrowed his brow, “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“How'd you get on, anyway?”

“Uh...well, I finally logged in. Did you know Joly's password is Mitochondria? What a fucking nerd, right?”

“And?”

“And, uh...I can't find it. Like, it was in a bunch of folders, and, uh, I don't remember _where_ , exactly...” Grantaire turned back to the laptop, “But don't worry! I'll find it.”

“Well you'd better hurry up, they're starting to wonder where you are,” Enjolras said, “They think the pizza gave you diarrhoea.”

“Nice.” Grantaire grimaced, “Oh, wait---I think I know w----”

“R? You okay?”

“Fuck!” He hissed, slamming the laptop shut; he leaped out of the chair just in time to see Joly swing the door open, startled to find both of them in his bedroom.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked.

“Ah, Enjolras wandered in here, he's a bit out of it,” Grantaire laughed awkwardly, wrapping one arm around Enjolras' waist to steer him towards the door, “He came looking for me and I guess he got lost...”

“He should know where your bedroom is by now,” Joly remarked, smirking; he stepped aside to let them past, “Get him into bed. He needs to sleep it off.”

“He sure does.”

_Fuck._

 


	3. Chapter 3

When Enjolras finally dared to lift his head from under the covers the next morning he felt like death. He was sprawled out flat on his stomach in Grantaire's bed, wearing nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt that practically buried him – one of Grantaire's, he realised. There was a horrible taste in his mouth and his head felt like someone had stuffed it full of cotton wool during the night.

“R...?” He murmured, rolling over to find Grantaire sitting up in bed on his phone.

“Hey,” Grantaire said, setting down his phone to look at him, “How are you?”

“I feel like hell.” Enjolras reported. 

“Yeah, figured as much...”

Enjolras scowled, “What happened...?”

“You don't remember?”

Enjolras hesitated, trying to pluck clues from the murky depths of his memory; he remembered Hobbits, pizza with olives and Bahorel snatching a bottle from his hands.

And a laptop – oh, god, the laptop...

“Did you delete the file?” He asked, reaching frantically for Grantaire's arm, “Please tell me you did!”

Grantaire shook his head, “No,” he said, “I'm sorry - I couldn't find it.”

“Fuck. I got everyone drunk, didn't I?”

“Uh, kind of,” Grantaire raised one eyebrow, “I think you bore the brunt of it yourself, to be honest.”

“Oh.” Enjolras grimaced; that sounded about right. Definitely explained the fuzziness in his brain and the throbbing temples. 

“I didn't throw up, did I?”

“No, thank god,” Grantaire shuddered, “There would've been olives all over the bed...”

Enjolras sighed, burying his face into the pillow; it smelt of Grantaire, like the fancy cologne Courfeyrac had bought him for his last birthday and oil paints.

“I feel awful,” he said, “And all for nothing, too!”

“Worse than nothing...” Grantaire muttered; Enjolras lifted his head, alarmed.

“What do you mean?”

“I, uh...well, when Joly came in and I had to close the laptop, I...kind of had the folder it was in up on the screen. Which means all he has to do is open it and click on the folder and it'll be right there...”

“Oh my god,” Enjolras felt his heart drop into his stomach like an anvil, “Okay, _now_  I'm going to puke,"

“Oh fuck, please don't..."

“I can't believe this!” Enjolras said, head in his hands, “He's going to see it. And he's _here_. I can't even avoid him! I'm going to have to climb out of a window or something!”

“It might not be so bad!” Grantaire said, laying one hand so tentatively on his shoulder it was as if he thought Enjolras might try to bite it off.

“For all we know he's watching it right now!” Enjolras protested, “Oh, god – this is awful. Just kill me now, please."

“Don't you think this is a bit of an overreaction?”

“No, I don't!”

“He won't _watch_ it,” Grantaire said, “He's not a pervert. He'll watch a few seconds, realise what it is and turn it off!”

“But he'll still have seen those few seconds,” Enjolras argued; how was Grantaire managing to remain so calm about this? This was like Enjolras' worst nightmare, perfectly tailored just for him.

“I just want this to go away!”

“Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Enjolras. You're right.” Grantaire said, and suddenly his voice went worryingly quiet.

Enjolras turned to look at him, seeing that he was hugging himself miserably, eyes downcast.

“I should have known I'd fuck up like this. It was inevitable,” he mumbled, “I was destined to fuck up – it's in my nature. I'm a screw up, and you're too good for me----”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, horrified, “Don't speak like that---”

“Well it's true,” Grantaire said, shrugging, “Everyone knows I'm punching _way_ above my weight dating you.”

“That's bullshit.” Enjolras said fiercely, grabbing Grantaire's hand, “Grantaire, listen to me – I love you, okay? And you haven't fucked up. Well, you have – but we both did. I was the one who said we should we make the damn video...”

“I still can't believe that,” Grantaire admitted, “I nearly had a heart attack when you suggested it.”

“Why? Why is that so outrageous?”

“Well you know you're...kinda private about that shit, and you're not exactly super experienced or like, dirty minded and...I don't know...” Grantaire shrugged, looking like he was struggling to put an exact pin on it.

"You can say 'prude', you know." Enjolras said flatly. 

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you thought."

Grantaire smiled a little guiltily, "Well you're just...not the sort of person I'd expect to be up for making a sex tape." 

“Well believe it or not I've been keeping a lot of pent up sexual frustration under wraps for years – and apparently I make bad decisions when I'm horny.” Enjolras said, pleased when it elicited a surprised snort of laughter from Grantaire.

“Fuck, sorry,” He said, “I'm just not used to hearing you use words like that...”

“What, horny?” Enjolras repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do you want me to say it over and over again until you get used to it?” he teased.

“No!”

“I will! Horny, horny, horn----”

“Joly and Bossuet will hear!”

“They've probably already seen me getting nailed on Joly's laptop screen - I don't think there's much point caring any more.”

Grantaire grabbed his pillow, swatting him across the back of the head with it, “Stop!” he begged, trying not to laugh, “Dear god, what's wrong with you? Are you still drunk?”

“I don't think so. I'm just kind of hysterical with panic, at this point.” Enjolras shrugged, “C'est la vie, you know? If they've seen it they've seen it, there's no going back from that.”

Grantaire shook his head, smirking to himself, “If you say so...”

“I do say so.” Enjolras said. He paused for a moment, and then shuffled along in bed so he was pressed close to him, “I love you,” he reminded him, lacing their fingers tightly together, “Honestly sometimes I think _you're_ too good for _me...”_

“Don't tease,” Grantaire grumbled.

“I'm not teasing,” Enjolras said emphatically, wishing he could magically make him understand, “I mean it.”

“Why would you think _that?_ ”

“Because you're wonderful,” Enjolras said, laying his head against his shoulder, “You're thoughtful and sweet and you put up with me even when I'm being a bit...overzealous.”

“Overzealous is a good word for it.”

“I know. You see? No one else would be so understanding.” Enjolras smiled, “You don't even believe we're going to change anything but you still come to all the meetings and support us. That's the kind of shit anyone wants from a partner.”

Grantaire let out a shaky little sigh, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Enjolras squeezed his hand, “Plus you're just so talented and interesting! You know so much about so many things. Even Combeferre gets a bit starry-eyed when you start quoting things.”

Grantaire snickered, “Seriously?”

“Seriously. He hides it behind his glasses but he's totally swooning.” Enjolras grinned, “I'm a lucky guy. And you're cute.”

“I'm cute? Me?” Grantaire cast him a doubtful glance, “Okay, _now_ you're humouring me---”

“I'm not!” Enjolras insisted, swatting him lightly on the arm, “You're exactly my type.”

“Your type is 'passes for homeless'?”

“My 'type' is slightly unkempt art student who looks like he belongs in a sad indie band,” Enjolras said playfully, kissing his cheek, “And I like your stubble.”

He felt Grantaire smile against his lips, “Yeah...?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks. I didn't realise there was so much about me that's appealing...”

“Well you're also good in bed, so that helps.”

At that Grantaire burst into laughter, “It's that kind of thinking that got us into this mess!” he pointed out.

“True,” Enjolras said, sighing, “Shit. We're going to have to face the music, aren't we?”

“I guess so. You want to go get coffee or straight to the guillotine?”

“Coffee might be good.”

 

-

 

There was a pot of cold coffee sitting on the kitchen counter - evidence of other life (or near as dammit) and an indication that clearly either Joly or Bossuet had been up before them.

Whoever it was they hadn't bothered to clean up - though looking at the state of the place Enjolras could hardly blame them. The living room looked like a bomb had gone off – a very strange, very student-y bomb, filled with mozzarella stuffed-crusts, beer caps and cheap pot. 

“I'll show you to your table, Monsieur,” Grantaire joked, making a show of seating him at the breakfast bar, “Can I take your order?”

“Coffee strong enough to kill a horse,” Enjolras said, resting his chin on his hand, “And quickly please, waiter...”

Grantaire smirked, kissing his cheek, “Coming right up!” he said, starting to ransack the cupboards for clean mugs. There was a rather impressive pile of unwashed dishes sitting next to the sink.

"It's modern art exhibit," Grantaire excused when he noticed Enjolras looking at it.

"I wasn't judging," Enjolras said. 

"Sure you weren't."

“What do we do now, anyway?” Enjolras asked, changing the subject, “About the video?”

“Murder-suicide?” Grantaire suggested airily.

“Don't tempt me,” Enjolras warned. Grantaire let out a snort.

“We could try to break the laptop?” he said after a moment.

“But doesn't Joly need it?”

“His essay is due today at noon,” Grantaire told him, shrugging, “We could wait until he's sent it and then arrange a little 'accident'?”

“Don't say it like that,” Enjolras said, wrinkling his nose, “You make it sound like we're planning to kill _Joly_.”

“Hey, don't rule it out – this far into the term I think he'd welcome it, frankly,” Grantaire said, “But seriously; we could do that.”

“Kill him?”

“No, his laptop. Fucking hell, Enjolras, give me _some_ credit.”

“Sorry. I guess you're right,” Enjolras mused, drumming his fingers against the table, “I mean, it's not like I can't afford to replace it. Hell, I could get him an upgrade, then he wouldn't even be upset...”

“See?” Grantaire said, handing him a mug, “But how do we do it?”

“Knock it off the table?”

Grantaire scoffed, “Enjolras have you _seen_ that thing? It would survive a nuclear detonation. Knocking it off the table isn't going to do anything except maybe break the floor."

“Alright. We could spill some water on it?” Enjolras supplied; the smell of coffee was starting to make his brain work again, like jump-starting an old car. A hungover, overworked car.

“Or coffee,” he added, raising his eyebrows, “I mean, if I happened to put this close to the edge of the counter, and Joly's bag just _happened_ to be underneath it...well these things happen, right?”

Grantaire nodded, “All the time.” he agreed, “That's the circle of life, right? Or something.”

“And then I get all apologetic and offer to buy him a new, better laptop before he gets any smart ideas about getting this one fixed...”

“And we live happily ever after without the disgrace of knowing our friend saw us going at it.”

“Perfect.”

“Great. We just have to wait until Joly finishes his essay----”

“Why?”

Enjolras practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of Joly's voice; he spun around on his stool, nearly spilling coffee all over himself.

“Joly,” He said, forcing a smile to his face and leaping to his feet, “Good morning!”

“Uh, yeah,” Joly said, giving him a strange look, “Morning, Enjolras.” he padded across the kitchen to help himself to the fresh coffee Grantaire had just made, yawning loudly.

“Why were you talking about my essay?”

“Ah,” Grantaire blanched, “I was just saying how, uh...”

“Grantaire was just telling me about an art project he has on your laptop,” Enjolras said quickly, “He wants to show me but we thought we'd wait until you're done on the computer...”

“What art project?” Joly said, scowling, “Didn't you transfer all your uni work to your other laptop, R?”

“Not all of it, apparently,” Grantaire said, laughing nervously.

“That's weird. Why would you give it me if it still had important stuff on it?”

“I guess I didn't think.”

Enjolras wanted to laugh; that was the understatement of the century.

“I didn't see anything like that on there,” Joly said, looking from Grantaire to Enjolras in confusion.

“Yeah well I guess it's buried in a bunch of folders---”

“I mean, I've got a spare flashdrive, I can----”

“NO!”

Joly recoiled as if Grantaire had slapped him, “Okay, do you mind telling what the hell is actually going on?” he said.

Enjolras' heart practically leapt up into his throat, “What do you mean?”

“You guys have been acting weird,” Joly said matter-of-factly, “ _Really_ weird. First all that weird shit at the Musain with your ankle, then creeping around in my room last night. What's happening? And don't say 'nothing' because I know that's bullshit." 

Grantaire froze; Enjolras felt his voice disappear.

And then, well – fuck it, he thought. There was no way to get out of this mess and retain their dignity; they'd already lost most of that trying to get the video back.

“Okay,” he sighed, shoulders sagging, “Joly, we need you to give us the laptop back for like five minutes.”

“Why?”

“Because a few months ago Grantaire and I made a sex tape and it's saved to the laptop.”

A long beat of silence followed his words, and then Joly made a silent 'O' shape with his mouth.

“Ah,” he said eventually, “Okay, um. Wow...”

“We need to delete it,” Grantaire put in, cheeks now red as a tomato, “Please.”

“Sure, I...yeah, obviously you'd want to delete that, but, uh...” Joly tapped his nails against the side of his mug, “I don't quite know how to tell you this, but I already removed everything from the hard-drive. I needed the space so I could download some movies, and...yeah.”

Enjolras stared at him, mortified, “I---what?”

“Yeah. It's long gone.”

“Gone?” Enjolras repeated.

“Totally. It's been sent wherever files go to die.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, blinking once, “Well...that's good, then, hey?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, feeling his face grow hot, “So we just told you about it for...absolutely no reason, then?”

“Kind of,” Joly nodded, sipping his coffee, “No judgement, though. Good for you two. Didn't expect it from you, Enjolras - cool to know you've got a bit of a wild side," he said, stepping casually around them and patting Grantaire on the shoulder as he went, “Get it, R.”

 

-

 

A few moments passed before Enjolras finally sat back down, bringing his mug up to his lips in a sort of shellshocked trance.

“Well,” Grantaire said, sitting down beside him, “At least it's gone, hey?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Enjolras agreed.

“Uh...pity Joly didn't mention the laptop wipe thing before you told him...”

“Yeah.”

Enjolras took a single sip of his coffee and then started to laugh – it was almost totally involuntary, and so violent he had to set his coffee down so it didn't end up in his lap.

Grantaire cocked his head, looking at him like he'd just gone completely mad.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stunned.

“I think so,” Enjolras said, “I just---well, it's typical, isn't it?”

Grantaire's confused expression slowly melted into amusement, “Yeah, kind of,” he nodded, “Seems fitting for us.”

“I think Bossuet's bad luck is rubbing off on us,” Enjolras smiled.

“Definitely.”

“Oh well...”

They laughed again until Enjolras' stomach practically hurt; finally, they regained their composure, falling into a strange silence.

“So...our video is gone,” Grantaire said after a while.

“Apparently. Gone forever.”

“That's a relief.”

“Mhmm.”

Enjolras chewed his bottom lip, giving a slight shrug, “I mean – it's not like we couldn't do it again, just...keep it somewhere safer, this time...”

“Encrypt the file,” Grantaire nodded, grinning to himself, “Hey, you don't have classes today, do you?”

“No...”

“You wanna'...?”

Enjolras smirked, grabbing his hand and already heading down the hallway towards Grantaire's bedroom; he was way ahead of him.

“Let's go.”

 


End file.
